Back From the Brink
by mashimoshi
Summary: Bellamy, who has been missing for over a month, is finally brought back to the Ark, wounded and afraid of everything and everyone. Now, it's Clarke's job to help him recover, no matter how difficult it might be.
1. Chapter One

**Hello fellow writers!! Welcome to my first ever _100 _story. So, I've just started watching this and I'm already in love. This is such an amazing show. **

**As you can see from the stats about this story, my favorite characters are Bellamy and Clarke, and I 100% ship them. I'm praying that they will become a thing in the near future. In the meantime, it is up to us to satisfy the needs of those that want Bellarke to happen, so that is exactly what I'm doing. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this work of FanFiction. This is set in the beginning of season 3. **

**NOTE: CLARKE DIDN'T LEAVE!! To make this story work, I needed to have her stay at the Arc. You'll probably see why. Anyway, enough of my rambling. Please make sure to favorite, follow, and review if you get a chance. I'd love to see your feedback. **

**-M**

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Chapter One:

Clarke was in the med bay when she heard the shouts coming from nearby, and she immediately knew that he was finally found. The blonde ran outside, desperately searching for his face. A gasp escaped her mouth when she finally found him.

Bellamy, who had been missing for over a month now along with five others, was being carried in by Kane and Octavia on a stretcher, his trembling body marred beyond recognition. Blood tainted his once tan - now pale - skin, some of it dry, some fresh. His eyes were scrunched shut, and soft whimpers were escaping his lips, loud against the silence of the camp. He was clearly in a lot of pain.

"Oh, my God, Bellamy!" Clarke cried, tears forming in her eyes as she ran to him, her mother at her heels. Her hands hovered over him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

"Get him inside," Abby ordered taking full control of the situation. Gently, she pressed a hand on the man's cheek, smiling reassuringly when he flinched away from her touch. "Bellamy," she said softly. "Bellamy, it's Abby. We're here to help you, sweetheart. Just try to relax. Everything will be just fine, I promise. Clarke and I will take good care of you."

"C-Clarke…?" Bellamy whispered hoarsely, voice cracking from misuse. He sounded weak, exhausted, hurt — a testament to the hell he had gone through in the weeks he'd been gone. "Clark-ke…" His voice faded as the rest of his remaining strength left him. Somehow, he managed to raise his hand, blindly reaching for his best friend.

"I'm right here, Bell," Clarke murmured, brushing some stray hair out of Bellamy's sweet face. "I've got you now. You're perfectly safe." She quickly looked at Octavia, who was sobbing quietly, staring at her brother with an unreadable expression written across her features. "I'll make sure to do everything I can to help," she said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Thank you," the woman replied, taking a deep, steadying breath before helping Kane carry Bellamy into the med bay.

The minute he was placed on one of the beds, Clarke and Abby got to work. By the time they fully examined the extent of his injuries, neither of them had any idea how Bellamy had managed to survive for as long as he did.

He was covered in wounds from head to toe, both old and new. The worst ones were the lashes on his back that looked like they came from a whip of some sort. There was a very big chance that they would become infected, since they were never cleaned properly until now. Aside from that, his shoulder was dislocated, and his wrist and ribs were broken. There were multiple cuts going down his arms, legs, face, and chest, thankfully already beginning to heal. Burns that were probably from a torch littered the rest of his body, most of them already blistering, and puncture wounds were trailing down his broad chest. Throughout the entire time, Bellamy struggled to keep quiet despite the agonizing pain, but was unable to towards the end, when the girls were relocating his shoulder. A heart wrenching scream let loose, his throat stinging from the effort, a small tear making its way down his cheek.

Quickly reacting, Clarke kneeled down beside him, interlocking their fingers together. "I know it hurts, Bellamy, I know. But you're doing great. Just a little more. We'll be done soon."

She was about to stand up and continue helping when Abby stopped her. "Sit with him for a bit," she said with a nod. "I got this."

For the next half hour or so, Clarke tried to sooth Bellamy, stroking his hair and kissing his temple whenever he was overwhelmed with pain again. She hated seeing him like this. Her heart truly ached for him, and she wished she could do more to help him. Sitting there and _telling_ him that everything was going to be alright wasn't good enough. It wasn't going to take away his suffering.

Finally, Abby was finished.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she leaned over her patient and held his face in both her hands. The more she studied him, the more she realized that even though he seemed to have aged during his captivity, he looking like nothing than a mere boy in need of comfort and love. "You did good, Bellamy. Thank you."

"I-It's you … I s-should b-be thank-king," Bellamy breathed out, pure gratitude in his dull eyes. "This w-was a-all you and … C-Clarke."Abby nodded, locking gazes with Clarke.

"I'll stay here," her daughter said. "Just in case. I'll call you if anything changes."

When the other woman left, Clarke realized that she was alone with the man she had missed so much. Now that her job was done, she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Once finding her voice, she squeezed his hand gently and said, "Sleep now, Bellamy. I'm right here."

Bellamy slowly let his eyelids fall closed, shivers making their way up his spine. He seemed to visibly deflate. "Thanks … P-Princess," he managed to say, curling into himself as he began falling into a familiar dark abyss he had come to love.

(IØØ)

She sat with him all night, wanting to monitor him for any changes. Clarke could already see that a fever was beginning to set in, which worried her, to say the least. Silently, she prayed that Bellamy would pull through.

The first thing she did was try to clean him up a bit. She used wet cloths to wash off the blood and grime off of his body, grateful that he didn't wake up while she was doing it. By the time she finished, Bellamy already looked better, but not as much as she wanted him to be.

Towards sunset, Octavia came into the infirmary, wanting to see how her only sibling was doing. She gasped when she saw the state Bellamy was in. How thin he was, how tired he looked, how much discomfort he was in — it made her want to find the bastards that did that to him and kill them all. Slowly. She vowed that while her brother recovered, she would uncover the group that managed to take him and the rest of his hunting party captive and make sure that they paid the price. _Blood must have blood._

After she'd left, Clarke continued keeping watch, reading a book to pass the time. She couldn't stand looking at him and thinking about how they didn't find him sooner. _Maybe if we searched harder, we would've saved him from the worst of it_, she kept thinking. So to take her mind off of it, she buried herself in The Count of Monte Cristo, one of her favorites novels.

Suddenly, a soft moan sounded from Bellamy's direction. Quickly slamming the book closed, Clarke's eyes fell on the sleeping man, who was writhing on his bed, clearly lost in the depths of a nightmare.

"D-Don't do this…," he said quietly, voice wavering with fear and exhaustion. "P-Please … I won't tell a-anyone. My people d-don't have to know … No!" He let out a strangled sob, slamming his head against the pillow. "No, don't! Please!"

Knowing that she needed to wake him up, Clarke stood up and took hold of his uninjured shoulder, rubbing soothing circles against his bare skin. "Bellamy," she spoke softly, caressing his jawline with her free hand. She could see him slowly starting to calm down, just from the sound of her voice. "Hey, Bellamy, it's okay. You're safe. Just open your eyes for me, Bell. You're okay."

With a gasp, Bellamy bolted upright, instantly regretting it as the motion pulled on his hurts. He watched as Clarke eased him down on the soft mattress, tears threatening to spill over his face. "Clarke…?" he said hesitantly, as if he couldn't believe it. "You're here? How'd y-you find … me?"

"We sent out a search party a week ago," Clarke explained, her fingers still touching his face lovingly. "Your sister, Kane, and a few others. They finally got back yesterday, having found you." She paused, waiting as Bellamy processed all the new information. "How are you feeling?" she asked, reaching to feel his forehead for a fever.

The man jerked away, clearly terrified of any sudden contact. For a moment, he just stared at Clarke with wide eyes, breathing a little harder than before. Soon enough, he calmed himself down and gave Clarke a nod of approval, waiting patiently as she quickly checked him over.

"You're a little warm," Clarke said when she finished. "Those lashes must be getting infected. You'll just have to wait it out until the medicine kicks in." The blonde frowned as Bellamy winced, understanding that she had brought up a sensitive subject for him. "I'm so sorry, Bellamy," she continued. "I wasn't thinking."

"It's a-alright," Bellamy whispered, closing his eyes to fight off the memories.

"Would you like some water?"

The idea of water made his stomach growl, and he desperately nodded. A sigh escaped his lips when he felt the cool liquid slide down his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd drank. It seemed like a lifetime ago. His captors only let him drink every few days and eat every once a week. He began to tremble as he thought about it, groaning when the water was taken away.

"I can't let you have too much or you'll get sick," Clarke said, apology in her tone. "You can have it later, in moderation … Do you think you can get some more rest? It'll do you some good."

Bellamy nodded. "I'll t-try," he muttered, even though he didn't want. The idea of falling into another nightmare made his head spin.

Within a few minutes, he was asleep, and Clarke was surrounded by silence, broken by the sound of her quiet sniffles.

TBC


	2. Chapter Two

**Second chapter! Thank you all for your support. I hope you enjoy! I promise you, it'll get better in the next few chapters. I have to start off with a baseline first, then get into the good stuff :) **

**Please don't forget to follow, favorite, and review.**

**-M**

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Chapter Two:

She hadn't wanted Bellamy to go out on that run in the first place. She had begged him to stay, telling him that they needed at least one of their leaders to stay behind. The night before he left, the woman had come to his room while he was packing, asking him one more time to let Kane go with the other men, while he stayed here and made sure that everything was in order in Arkadia.

"You know I'll be fine, Clarke," he had promised her as she stood in front of him, tears in her eyes. "Only gonna take a week or two. Don't know why you're so hung up on it-"

That was Clarke kissed him, desperately smashing her lips against his own as she placed her hands against his strong, muscular chest. She knew that they wouldn't be able to have anything more than a single kiss, because if they did, then everything would change, so, instead, she fought back the feeling of pushing him on the bed and continued kissing him, wanting to savor every minute of it. They fell asleep on the soft mattress, with Clarke lying in Bellamy's secure arms, sleeping soundly. It was the most peaceful night they had ever had, and that was when they both realized that they wanted more of this. They silently agreed that they wanted to be together.

That was why, on the next day, right before he left, Bellamy gave her a long, wonderful kiss, cupping her cheek with gentle, calloused fingers. When they pulled away, he pressed his lips to her temple and said, "When I get back, I promise ya we'll continue where we left off."

As days turned turned to weeks, and weeks turned into a month, Clarke began growing more and more worried. They had tried to contact him, but there was nothing but radio silence. Finally, they sent out a search party. Another week passed, and Clarke was starting to lose hope. She would never see Bellamy again. She would never get to hug him, or hear one of his silly jokes, or see his beautiful smile. Just the thought of it made her want to run and find him herself.

But then they brought him back. And everything had changed.

Now, Clarke was wiping the sweat off of Bellamy's forehead, trying hard not to pay attention to his feverish body. "You're doing great, Bell," she was saying. "The medicine is working. The fever will break soon."

"C-Can't wait," Bellamy said with a smirk. He was exhausted, the last two days of fighting off this infection having been very difficult. There were heavy dark circles underneath his eyes, which were bloodshot and red. His wounds were shining brightly against his pale skin, and he flinched every time he looked at any of them. All he wanted was to just get better already so he didn't have to be in so much pain anymore.

"How's our patient doing today?" Abby, who had just entered the infirmary with Octavia, asked.

"R-Ready to get out of h-here," replied Bellamy, sparing a glance at his sibling.

"Hey, big brother," the younger Blake asked, a small smile on her face.

"He's almost out of the woods," Clarke explained, proudly looking at Bellamy. "I think he should start recovering in his own quarters. It'd be good for him…"

"I agree," said Abby, quickly taking Bellamy's temperature and checking his bandages. The stitches on all his lacerations were holding well, thankfully. Physically, he was going to fully heal. Healing mentally was a completely different problem. "Alright, Bellamy let's get you into that wheelchair. It's about time you sleep in your own bed."

With Octavia's careful help, Bellamy was able to stand up and move into the rather comfortable seat, his hands in his lap as he was driven through the familiar halls. He actually felt like he could breathe for once, the air wonderful compared to the infirmary. It was one of the best things he'd felt in a while.

Clarke was behind them, about to turn the corner when a voice called her name. It was Chancellor Kane. "Is everything okay, Chancellor?" she asked, a strange feeling settling in her gut.

"Yes," Marcus replied. "I am so glad Bellamy is getting better."

"Me, too. He's been doing really well, all things considered."

"Look … Clarke," Kane began, a hesitant edge to his tone. He wanted something, but Clarke didn't know what it was yet. "I know Bellamy is in no state of mind to discuss this, but we need to know what happened so we can catch these bastards. Who knows, there may be more of them out there, and they will want revenge for the deaths of their men and the involuntary release of their captive. It's help get justice for everything Bellamy has gone through…"

"We both know that the only reason you want the information is for the camp, not for Bellamy," Clarke growled, furious. "And you're right, he's _not_ strong enough to relive it yet. Soon, yes, but definitely not now. You'd better not go to him after I told you no and start asking him or I swear to God, I won't wait for those men to come and kill you. When he's ready, he'll tell us whatever we need to know."

Kane nodded solemnly. "Fine, Clarke. I'll wait."

With that, he walked off, giving Clarke the chance to join the others in Bellamy's room. She smiled at the happy expression on the man's worn face. The walls around them were so much brighter than the dull med bay; it was uplifting, to say the least. "How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting down beside him on the bed and taking his hand.

"Never been ... s-so comfortable." A weary chuckle escaped Bellamy's mouth, and he threw his head back, reveling in the light shining through his window.

"That's good," Abby said. "I'll leave you alone for the night. You've had enough prodding from me. Rest well."

"Thank y-you, Abby."

Slowly, Octavia stepped up and leaned down, planting a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow morning, Bell. Have Clarke call me if you need anything."

Bellamy couldn't remember the last time his sister had been so nice to him. Every time they talked, it usually ended up in her blaming him for something. Now, it seemed like all she wanted to do was help him, which really surprised him. By the time he came out of his whirling thoughts, Clarke was the only one left with him, and he was finally able to take off his masks. He slumped into the covers, moaning quietly.

"Hey, hey," his companion quickly said. She crawled under the covers and gathered him into arms, pillowing his head in her lap. "It's okay. I'm right here."

Bellamy began to relax, letting out deep, painful breaths. "Thank y-you, Clarke," he whispered, closing his eyes as he began fighting off the pain.

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

**Took a while but I finally got to writing the third chapter. This one's pretty angsty, which I hope makes up for the short length. Please don't forget to review, favorite, follow. Your support has been amazing. **

**Enjoy!!**

**-M**

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Chapter Three:

Bellamy almost gasped when he felt the fresh air hit his face. His shoulders sagged as he took in a deep breath, basking in the warm sunlight shining upon him. God, he'd missed this so much.

Clarke was watching him from a foot away, a bright smile on her face. She was so happy that for the first time in weeks, he looked content. It reminded her of the first time they'd stepped foot on Earth.

They slowly made their way to the graves that had been built for those five people, the ones that had died while in captivity.

Jasper, Danny, Susan, Lilly, and Mike.

They were the ones that had gone with Bellamy and never made it out. Never got to see daylight again, never got to feel the sun against their faces. Just the thought of it made shivers crawl up Clarke's spine. With a soft sigh, she placed the flowers she'd picked outside of the Ark beside each one of their headstones, wishing them all safe refuge in their new home.

She stood back up to look at her companion, frowning at what she saw. Not that it was any different than usual. But still, it hurt. In the weeks he'd spent recovering, most of his more minor wounds had healed, and the rest were on their way. But his mind was on a rampage to destroy him. Everyone knew that he suffered from constant nightmares that never seemed to leave him alone. They knew that he struggled every day, trying to forget what had happened to him, trying not to let it all consume him. But no matter how hard he tried, it all seemed to be for nothing. Slowly, Bellamy was starting to lose hope. And now this was almost like the last straw.

His eyes had dulled, his head was hung in shame, his fists clenched at his sides. "I shouldn't be happy," he whispered brokenly, guilt lacing his words. "Here I am, smiling that I'm outside when they're down there, buried in the dirt." And then, in no more than a weak breath, he added, "It should be me instead of them."

Somehow, Clarke heard him, and she grabbed his face in both hands, not caring that he'd flinched at the unexpected contact. "Bellamy Blake, you do not get to say that," she said sternly. "You survived for a reason. The Ark needs you. Your sister needs you. _I_ need you. Please, don't blame yourself for this, because you did nothing wrong. It could've happened to anybody. You hear me?"

In all honesty, Bellamy was too tired to argue. He nodded instead, a stray tear falling down his face and onto the soil beneath him.

"Now come on," Clarke continued, brushing the tear away and smiling assuringly. "Let's grab some food from the mess hall and then have lunch out here. It'll be good for you."

For the first time in a very long time, Bellamy felt refreshed. He couldn't believe that he'd ever taken the blessing of having a meal outside for granted. It was something that he was never going to do again. Unfortunately for him, it began raining after about a half hour, and Clarke forced him to go inside, in fear of him catching a cold. He agreed that he did not need that on top of everything else.

When they made it back to his room, they were both surprised to see Marcus Kane standing behind the door, an unreadable expression on his face. "Ah, you're back," he said. "Abby told me I'd probably find you here."

Just like when he confronted her that day in the halls, Clarke felt that something was off. "What do you want, Kane…?" she asked hesitantly. Without realizing it, she stepped in front of her companion, as if to protect him. There was no way that she'd let this bastard get to him, she kept thinking.

But Marcus didn't even pay attention to her. His gaze fell on Bellamy, his intended target. Just the coldness in the Chancellor's eyes made the poor man want to turn invisible. If only that were possible.

"Bellamy, I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk to me about your captivity," Kane began, his voice soft but emotionless. He didn't care about Bellamy's well being. All he cared about was his safety. "I have given you some time to recover, and in that time, thankfully, no one has attacked us, but I still want to be prepared. If you'd just give me some information as to what or who you saw, where you think you were, anything. It would all be very appreciated."

Anger began to course through Clarke's veins, and she almost growled. "How dare you?" she breathed out. "I told you that he was-"

"Frankly, I don't care what you told me. I'm addressing Bellamy."

Something in the way he said it made Bellamy shiver. He realized that he had no choice. Somehow, Kane would punish him if he refused. Or worse, he would punish Clarke. That was something that couldn't happen. Wouldn't. "Alright," he said quietly, taking a deep breath to try and prepare himself. He slowly walked over to his bed and sat down, resting his head in his hands. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

After another inhale, Bellamy looked up and began, taking slowly and hesitantly. "They kept us in a series of caves. We were separated. When they captured us, they knocked us out, so I have no idea where we were taken. These people are similar to the Grounders, but more ruthless. They never asked any questions. They just…" His voice broke and he began to tremble, the memories all flooding back to him. Everything that he'd tried so hard to forget was entering his mind again. "They spoke English. I never saw the leader, but I overheard that it was a she. Everyday, a man and a few guards came into my cell. The guards were there to make sure that I didn't try to … attack, but I was in no position to do that anyway. They probably came to watch as he-" Once again, he choked on his words, gripping the bed so hard his knuckles were turning white. "That's all I know."

"Thank you, Bellamy," Marcus said. His tone seemed to have changed. Now it held more sympathy … and pity. "This has really helped us."

And then he turned around and left.

The minute he was finally gone, Bellamy let out a sob, wrapping his arms around himself. His head spun as he tried to fight off the horrifying images flashing through his mind. His fingers twitched as he remembered what they'd done to him. He heard the screams of his men in the back of it all, the sounds so painful, he doubled over. When was this ever going to end? he thought.

Clarke rushed over to him, quickly gathering him in her arms and pillowing his head on her lap. She began to stroke his hair. "Hey, it's alright," she murmured, caressing his jawline. "You did great." She missed the top of his head gently, hoping to be of some comfort. "You did great, Bellamy."

The man nodded jerkily, his tremors growing worse. "Just … sit with me for a while," he begged her, his hand finding hers. All he wanted - no, needed - right now was to feel her near him. She was the only one that could truly calm him down.

"Of course."

Hours passed, and neither of them moved.

Time seemed to slow down. Silence surrounded them, broken by the sound of their breathing. Hers was soft, his raspy. Every once in a while, a tremor would take over him, to which she would respond with strengthening words and more kisses.

After a while, Clarke began to think that maybe it was best to just leave him alone, give him some more time to recover from this blow. She carefully helped him lay down properly, about to walk to the door and make her exit when his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, startling her.

His eyes were pleading with her, full of pain and suffering. "Stay."

So she did.

TBC


End file.
